A Hard Day at Work
by chiroho
Summary: TV Show Episode Title Challenge - December - Friends: The One with the Red Sweater - 1st story in the "Being" series with Sienna27 -- A glimpse at Hotch's inner monologue on a day when Emily wears a red sweater to work. Rated T for language and innuendo.


**Hard Day at Work**

PROMPT: Friends - The One with the Red Sweater

A/N: I totally blame **Sienna27** for this!

* * *

_**Being Aaron Hotchner and Being Emily Prentiss – Story 1  
**_

It seemed to be any regular work day, though with the BAU a regular work day could be pretty hairy at times, but this one didn't seem to be like it could end up that way – at least when I'd first arrived and started in on the perpetual stack of three weeks' worth of paperwork crowding my desk. Maybe if I concentrated, I could catch up on at least a few days worth by lunch.

As the team slowly trickled in, I noted their presence as I looked down through the blinds in my office into the bullpen. Dave, unusually, was the first to arrive, and waved at me as he passed outside my office. Morgan then ambled in, looking rather lethargic. If my vision had been better I'm sure I would have seen how red his eyes looked. I shook my head. He really should know better than to party on a work night. I have to see if I could find a way to give him a hard time about it later.

Emily, unusually, arrived after Morgan – she was nearly always the first in after me. Sometimes when there was a good chance of us not picking up a case she dressed more casually, but today I saw that she was wearing a classy charcoal combination, with an attractive wine red sweater underneath. Although she didn't wear red too often, I always liked the way it brought colour to her pale features. However, it wasn't until she walked up the stairs to my office that I realised she was actually wearing a skirt suit – something which, in my opinion, she didn't do nearly often enough. Though, in some ways it was good she didn't, because with those legs I'd probably need to beat away the male FBI colleagues who would undoubtedly hover around her desk so they could 'ask her a question about a case'.

"Morning, Hotch. Picked you up some coffee on the way in."

Pretending as though I hadn't been staring at her legs since she'd walked in the door, I looked up.

"Thanks, Emily."

That's when I noticed the sweater. Yes, the jacket was very businesslike and professional, but that red sweater underneath seemed to be doing an awful lot of curve hugging. I swallowed, and was grateful for the fact that I wasn't into full smiles, because if I'd been doing one I'm sure it would have faltered. Holy crap! This was so not going to be good for my productivity.

When I focused on her face, I saw a twinkle in her eyes and she tossed the hair, that I realised she'd curled slightly, over her shoulder. She leaned over to place the coffee on my desk, and as she did so the jacket, which she'd unbuttoned at some point in the last ten seconds, parted slightly, allowing me to see just how form fitting that darn sweater was. In fact, I was sure that I could make out the shape of the lace in her bra through the material of the sweater.

"Everything okay, Hotch?" She smiled demurely. "You seem a little flushed."

"I'm fine." It was the automatic response. I was glad that I didn't have to think about it because she was still leaning forward, which started another completely unconscious reaction – one fortunately not visible because I was sitting behind my desk. Of course, things immediately went from bad to worse as JJ popped her head around my office door.

"Ready for the briefing, Hotch?"

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! "Gather everyone in 10 minutes, please JJ." Thank the Lord for repressed emotions which ensured even I couldn't detect the waver in my voice I was sure had to be there. I saw Emily grin out of the corner of my eye as she straightened up and buttoned her jacket, so obviously she'd heard something.

"Are you sure you're feeling well, Aaron?" Emily purred.

Holy Hannah! I looked down at the file on my desk, crime scene photos immediately jumping into view. I don't think I'd ever been as happy to see a sight so disgusting, as it immediately calmed the jack hammering of my pulse, my blood obviously moving back to my brain and away from other parts of my anatomy. Phew!

Okay Aaron, get your act together here. She might be a smoking hot minx of a woman, but you have to make it through the day, and it's only 8:20. Shit! It's only 8:20. Good God this was going to be a hard day. Oh crap, I could have worded that better.

I looked up at Emily's face. Don't look down! Don't look down! "I'm fine. Thank you for the coffee."

She smirked, and walked slowly out the door, rolling her hips way more than I remembered ever seeing her do before. Crap, but she had a nice ass.

Crime scene photos! Look at the crime scene photos! NOW!

///////

It came as absolutely no surprise that, when I entered the conference room, I found that the only spare seat was next to Emily. So of course I had to sit there, and when I did I immediately noticed that she was sitting at just the right angle that I could see the way that fucking red sweater hugged her breast perfectly!

Focus on JJ! Pay attention to the briefing, Aaron!

JJ, I noticed, was wearing a flattering black blouse, tucked into a black skirt which hugged her rear. For some unfathomable reason, she'd chosen to wear black knee-height boots. I groaned internally. That evil witch of a woman next to me had somehow hit an internal switch, and now I was seeing sex everywhere I turned.

Don't look at JJ! Do NOT look at JJ, Aaron!

So I focused on the one person in the room least likely to engender any sort of sexual reaction – Reid. And the files we were discussing. I focused on the files we were discussing. Didn't I have an opinion on this one? I flicked the file open, and looked through my notes. Ah yes, there it was, right next to the picture of Emily's breast being caressed by a red sweater in the corner of my eye! And it was moving. Was the God damned woman hyperventilating or something? She had to be channelling that much movement into it!

No! No! No! No! No! Stop it, Aaron. Focus!

I looked at my watch - 8:32. And this meeting was due to run for another two hours. There was no way on God's green earth that I was going to last another ten minutes, let alone another two hours. Especially since Reid was already getting antsy, I guess because I was staring at him. I've been known to have that affect on people, though I'm not really sure why. It wasn't as though I was giving him a number one glare or anything. Yes, of course I had my glares numbered. If I've practiced something in front of a mirror to make sure I'm getting it right, I'm definitely going to want to make sure that I'm delivering the correct ordinance when the time comes.

Oh nice job, Aaron. Talking to yourself again. Still, you managed to distract yourself for two minutes from the heaving red breast next door. Shit!

So, here I am staring at Reid again, when I feel a nudge from my left. Looking over, I see that Dave is holding a note inside his copy of the file. 'Has Reid done something wrong?' Oh for crying out loud! I was only staring at him for a couple of minutes, trying to avoid … why is it that I'd never noticed that when Emily crosses her legs her skirt rides up to – HER THIGH! First the sweater, and now this? Guh! What amazing legs she has!

Must not look at Prentiss' legs. Must not look at Prentiss' legs. D'oh! Must not look at Prentiss' chest! Must NOT look at Prentiss' chest! OR LEGS! Oh for frig's sake, this is just a complete cluster.

Time to stare at Reid again. And he's twitching. I just barely suppress rolling my eyes. What is he, a rabbit or something?

I hadn't been listening to JJ, and now it seemed as though I was supposed to be giving some input, or at least answering a question, because everyone was looking at me. Just fucking great! The one time you don't pay attention in a meeting Aaron. I looked down at my notes again, carefully avoiding looking to my right at all.

Ah ha! That's what I'd meant to say.

"Morgan, can you and Reid put together a preliminary profile on this, and send it back to Rochester?"

"Sure thing, Hotch."

Oh thank the Lord Almighty! Everyone was nodding, as though I'd made sense. Must pay attention! MUST pay attention! Breast. Thigh! Oh fuck!

I looked down as my phone buzzed, and saw that I'd received an email from the Wicked Witch of the West. She needed to see me, for an URGENT meeting. I rolled my eyes internally. Fucking bitch! Probably meant it had been sitting on her desk for a week being ignored, and she'd just noticed that AD Skinner needed input by EOB today. Still, I think it was the most I'd ever wanted to go to a meeting with her.

Interrupting JJ's discussion of the next case, I stood up.

"Sorry, JJ. Urgent meeting with Strauss." I'm sure no one detected the sarcasm which was part of that statement. "Dave, can you lead the rest of the discussion, please?"

"Of course, Aaron."

I fled, and in doing so, I heard Morgan's voice float out the door.

"Is it just me, or did Hotch actually seem eager to get to that meeting?"

///////

If there was one thing guaranteed to banish the sexual urge from a man, it was a meeting with Erin Strauss. I'd been in there for seven hours! Count them. S-E-V-E-N! How can anyone be productive in a seven hour meeting? And she wanted to talk about the cost of office supplies. Hello! Earth to the dumb blonde bureaucrat? There's a damned frigging jet out there, and every time we start it up it costs the equivalent of a year's worth of office supplies. Do you think ordering one less box of paperclips will make a difference? It's enough to drive anyone to an early grave.

And speaking of early graves, as I walk through the glass doors of the BAU I notice that Emily has attracted some admirers during the time I've been having my soul exorcised. Looks like Brad Cop-a-feel and Joe Leerer. Just great. And the woman is obviously flirting with them. Apparently she doesn't have enough paperwork to do, a situation I'll definitely have to remedy. She turns her attention to me as I walk up.

"Hotch, do you remember Agents Copperfield and Lehrer from Counter Terrorism?"

I give them THE DEATH GLARE (TM). It's the one I like to subtitle 'I am going to make you piss yourself, and then sit you down on the floor and wipe it up with your pants – while you're wearing them'. I find that this particular look generally has an amusing affect on just about anyone.

"Captured all the terrorists on the FBI's Most Wanted List yet, Agents?"

I'm honestly not sure whether their feet actually touched the ground between Emily's desk and the door to the unit. There are some advantages to being known as one of the toughest hard asses in the entire Bureau.

Turning back to Emily, she apparently is less than amused that I've dispossessed her of her play things, and she pouts at me. Pouts! Can anyone seriously believe that a woman in her position would pout at her boss?

Derek is chuckling from his desk.

"Fully recovered from this morning's hangover, Agent Morgan?" He suddenly found the huge stack of files on his desk to be of paramount interest. "I want five of those completed and on my desk before you leave today." Serves him right for going clubbing on a week night.

I look over at Emily, and she's stopped pouting, but is now unbuttoning her jacket and letting both girls come out to play. They are the most perfectly shaped things I have ever seen in my entire life, and that sweater only accentuates the way they look. If I'm not drooling, I'm obviously not a heterosexual male. And yes, I can feel a slight wetness at the corner of my mouth, thank you very much!

"Reid, stop staring at Prentiss' chest unless you want to end up doing sexual harassment training for the next six months!"

The sudden flurry of activity to my right indicates that Reid has, indeed, found something else to do. Of course, he could just be going over every detail of their shape in his mind. Damned eidetic memory! I have to admit though, I'm pretty certain I could give Reid a run for his money on the memory stakes when it comes to describing Emily's chest and legs – certainly after today anyway.

Okay, I've had enough of this. I need to take control of the situation.

I step closer to Emily and lean in to her ear, whispering so only she can hear. "My office - ten minutes. You'd better be ready."

Stepping back, I notice a slightly shocked expression on her face, so I waggle my eyebrows at her a couple of times, while turning up the left corner of my mouth.

As I walk up the stairs to my office, I see that she hasn't moved save to turn so she can follow my progress. I mouth 'ten minutes' at her and wink before walking over to my desk. Looking through the shades in my office, I see her mouth has opened in a small gasp. Heh! Payback can be a bitch.

Ten minutes doesn't take very long when you have most of a day's worth of voice mail to listen to, which is why I was only just finishing that task when Emily nervously knocked at the door. Strangely, her jacket was buttoned, and she actually looked a little skittish. Apparently it's one thing to dish out innuendo, and another thing to have the subject of your teasing actually respond. I smiled. You know, both corners of my mouth. I even threw in a dimple (facial control expression #137, in case you're keeping track), just to see how she'd react.

Emily blushed, and ducked her head slightly. I have to say that I'd honestly never noticed just how damn adorable she was when she was embarrassed.

"Come in, Emily. Please shut the door."

She glanced out into the bullpen, obviously taking one last look at her escape route, then drew back her shoulders and closed the door. Finally, she turned towards me.

"Um …"

I suppressed a snort. She was too funny.

I removed my jacket, and hung it on the back of my chair. Loosening my tie, I walked over towards where she was standing. "So, should we do this on the couch, or on my desk?"

Emily's eyes quite literally bugged out. "Sir?"

Closing the distance between us, I stepped into her personal space and unbuttoned her jacket. "It's a simple question, Emily. Do you have a preference?" I slipped my hand under the jacket and onto her waist, moving it slowly up her side. The material of the sweater was amazingly soft, though not, I imagined, as amazing as her skin would feel.

She closed her eyes, moaning slightly. "Couch."

"Okay." I removed my hand, and reached for the stack of files on my desk, dropping them into two piles on the low table in front of the couch. "You take these, and I'll take the others."

Her eyes popped open. "WHAT?!"

I sit down on the couch. "I figure that if we do this together, it will be that much faster. And as you obviously don't have a lot of paperwork at the moment, I assumed you had plenty of time to help me out."

She was glaring at me. Seriously glaring. Of course, I'd glared at myself enough in the mirror to know what a truly frightening gaze looks like, so I just shrugged it off.

"Why you low down, son of a bitch!"

"Need I remind you, Agent Prentiss, of section V subsection 3.2 of the FBI code of conduct? Insulting a superior will result in disciplinary action. Now sit down, please."

She glowered at me for a second. Actually glowered. I wasn't sure that I'd ever seen that expression in her face before, but there it was. I was actually slightly impressed - I thought that I had the market cornered on glowering. Apparently I must have been rubbing off on her.

Finally, after letting out a huff of frustration, she sat, and started to read the first file.

"Emily?"

She turned towards me, half distracted by what she was reading. "Hmmm?"

I took the opportunity to plant on her the most astounding kiss I believe she'd ever experienced. Now, I'm not into self aggrandisement, and obviously I have no empirical knowledge about the sort of kisses Emily Prentiss had experienced in the past, but the fact that she was literally humming and her feet were twitching by the time I broke off for air a minute or two later, does tend to suggest that it was at least a darn pleasurable experience. Of course, it could also have been the fact that I had one of those amazing sweater clad breasts cupped in my hand. I'd been right too. She was wearing a lace bra, because I could feel the pattern. And another thing which was now more obviously visible through the sweater.

She slumped back against the couch, eyes barely open. "Wow."

I grinned - both dimples. "We'll continue this later. Your place, or mine?"

"I don't care, so long as you do that again."

"Oh believe me, Emily. There are better things than that in store for you this evening." I ran my hand up her thigh, pushing her skirt up slightly. She shuddered.

"You're a bad, bad man, Aaron Hotchner."

I chuckled. "You're the one who started this. Don't blame me if it ended up somewhere you didn't expect."

I turned back to the stack of case files on the table. "One last thing though."

She pulled herself upright from where she'd slumped against the back of the couch. "Yes?"

"Don't ever wear that sweater to work again, unless you really do want to choose between this couch and my desk."

She laughed.

* * *

_A/N 2: Yes, I'm well aware that this pushes the boundaries of characterisation, but isn't that what writing is all about? And doesn't that make the story more amusing? Also, it's important to remember that this is what's going on inside Hotch's head. For all we know, he looks completely stoic during this whole thing. In fact, that's kind of how I picture him. It's just that, like every other male in the world, he has a lot going on in his head while he's being all Mr. Repressed Emotions. Right?  
_

_Anyway, the real reason for this second note is that, after reading this piece, **Sienna27** has said that she will write a parallel piece which is basically the same story through Emily's POV. I've channelled Hotch here, well as much as any heterosexual male can come close to channelling Captain America, and **Sienna27 **__is going to channel Emily. So look for something from her as a counterpart to this some time in the next week - with any luck anyway._


End file.
